


Schrödinger's Genius

by scifinut



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifinut/pseuds/scifinut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are two very clever boys stuck in a room, each trying to be the cleverest boy there is. One of them makes it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schrödinger's Genius

**Author's Note:**

> NaNo is over and my muse has come back in full force for other things! This hasn't seen a beta and was inspired by a conversation I had that most likely happened too late at night. All mistakes are mine, but pretty much nothing else. Read and enjoy!

Sherlock's eyes fluttered but remained closed. There was a dull throbbing in his skull that refused to go away, no matter how still he lay or how much he forced himself to ignore it. He had been hit on the back of the head with a blunt object, probably at a fairly low velocity given the fact that he wasn't in a hospital and John wasn't hovering over him. There were very few clues to where he was without opening his eyes, but he made himself figure out what he could, as he always did when he woke up in a strange place.

There was no distinct smell, so any sort of medical treatment facility was ruled out, they always smelled like antiseptic and disinfectant. There didn't seem to be any metallic smells or oil residue in the air, or any overt smell of dirt or waste, so that ruled out most of the disused factories or warehouses that Mycroft tended to prefer taking people to. The light was steady but without warmth, so he was definitely inside somewhere without sunlight, a closed room. He could hear someone else breathing, but it was extremely slow. Perhaps it was someone else who was still asleep or unconscious. There was cheap tile under his hands, and he could feel that there had been years of wear on it. Some of the scuff marks were scratched permanently into the tiles themselves, but they seemed to be secured firmly to the ground below. He couldn't hear anything other than the breathing and slight rustle of clothes to accompany it. It sounded like a greatcoat similar to his own, but he could be wrong about that. But this was definitely a government facility of some sort, and someone had brought him here. But who?

Sherlock opened his eyes to see a man sitting on a table looking down at him. "Hello," the man said brightly, waving a hand.

Sherlock sat up, his eyes darting around to take in every bit of information he could. "So kind of you, brother, to do this to me," he muttered before his eyes came to rest on the strange man. "I suppose you wanted to meet me and had something to offer Mycroft, did you?"

The man frowned and shook his head. "No." Every feature of his face seemed exaggerated when he moved it.

"Then what are we here for?" Sherlock asked testily.

The man shrugged. "I can't rightly say. I haven't got my sonic screwdriver on me, so I can't even check to see where here is."

"Government facility. This is some sort of interrogation room," Sherlock stood up and began walking around the room as he spoke, running his fingers along various surfaces. His eyes flicked up to the ceiling and down to the floor, taking in more details. "It's been used very often, but not recently. There's no cameras in the ceiling, so probably the 40s or 50s, if not before. Perhaps something more secretive, but I doubt they'd dare do something without recording it. Tile was laid very well, but is scratched up from chairs constantly being pushed in and out. Table is bolted to the floor, so possibly used to interrogate dangerous people. One-way mirror, I'm sure Mycroft is on the other side right now watching me. Probably listening through the glass with some sort of hyperbolic device to pick up sound waves through strength treated glass. Chairs don't look particularly comfortable, so this wasn't where the most high-end prisoners were brought. They would have higher ranked officials interrogating them, and they don't like sitting on uncomfortable chairs for too long. We're likely underground or in a soundproofed bunker, but underground would be a safer bet." He paused and looked at the man. "And you, what are you doing here?"

The man smiled. "Well, that's not really important. I'm just passing through, really. Wasn't even meant to be stopping in London, but here we are."

"No," Sherlock said sharply. "There we are not. Somewhere in the green belt, not too far from London that Mycroft wouldn't be able to get back quickly, but he would have taken me outside the city for this. Whatever _this_ is." He paced quickly back and forth in front of the mirrored window. Suddenly he turned and slammed his hands into the glass. "Mycroft! Let me out of here, I have work to do!"

"I wonder how Mycroft knows Jack," the strange man mused. "Is he in the government, your brother? High-ranked? Lots of secrets?"

"What?" Sherlock asked as he spun to look at the man. "Who the hell are you, anyway?" He didn't like the thought that someone was as clever as he was.

"Oh, sorry. I'm the Doctor, hello." He waved again at Sherlock, waggling his fingers and started kicking his feet as they hung from the table.

"Hello, Doctor," Sherlock said slowly. His eyes narrowed. "Are you here to examine me? Is that was this is about?" The man looked nothing like a doctor, but Sherlock couldn't get a solid read on him. There was something strange about the man that he couldn't place.

"Not that I know of, no," the Doctor replied, shaking his head. "I'm just here with you. But why are you examining me? What are you looking for?" he asked, leaning in and staring into Sherlock's eyes. His head waved back and forth as he looked into each eye individually, then he leaned back to get the whole picture. He hopped off the table and circled Sherlock, taking in every minute detail.

The Doctor could already tell that Sherlock was used to being the cleverest person around. The only problem was that so was he, and only one of them could actually be cleverer than the other. He took out his glasses from a pocket and put them on, grabbing Sherlock's arm and holding it out, inspecting the sleeve of his coat closely. He took a deep sniff of it and nodded, then tasted his fingers where they had grabbed Sherlock's arm. "Lamb's wool. Probably the first shearing." He tasted his fingers again. "Mmm, some second mixed in. Still, I'll bet it cost you." He stepped back again as Sherlock pulled his arm away. "Finely tailored suit. Well, as finely as you can get around here. Using your oversized brain to show off at record speed, convinced we're actually trapped in here and your big brother is watching everything you do. I know this." He turned his head aside and muttered. "How do I know this? How do I know...2011 in London, how do I...? OH! YES!" He smacked his forehead and turned back excitedly. "I'm thick! How could I not figure this out sooner? You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the outburst from the man. "What do you mean convinced we're trapped in here?"

The Doctor took off his glasses and gave Sherlock a cheeky grin. "Exactly as I said. You're convinced we're trapped in here, that Mycroft and Jack brought us here and are watching us even now. That we can't get out without them letting us."

"And you think otherwise?"

He shrugged. "I don't mind sitting around talking. Or just sitting. Not a problem for me. But I'm not the one who's convinced we're trapped who hasn't even tried the door." He gestured to the gunmetal gray slab on the other side of the room from Sherlock. "At least if you're going to make rash assumptions, test your theories."

Sherlock was at the door in two strides, testing the handle. It gave easily and the door opened widely into the hallway.

"See?" the Doctor said. "Easy as trying the door." Sherlock was already striding down the hallway angrily. "It was nice to meet you!" the Doctor called out behind him.

\--------------------

Mycroft was actually smiling. "Hm, it appears you were right. Absolutely no threat whatsoever to the government and its interests. And anyone who can make Sherlock that upset so easily gets at least one free pass in my book." He turned to Jack Harkness and held out a hand. "Consider the records altered already, Captain. And thank you."

"Thank you, Mycroft," Jack replied, shaking his hand. After so many years it was nice to have confirmation that the records would officially show that the Doctor wasn't a threat to England and her interests any longer, and having Mycroft on his side meant that Torchwood would continue to receive funding. "If you're ever in Cardiff give me a call. I'll give you a private tour of whatever parts of our facility you want to see." For once, his tone was completely businesslike, no hint of flirtation in it.

"If I ever have the time, I may take you up on that offer." Mycroft smiled again, this time a tighter smile, one reserved for business officials and work. "Enjoy your time in London, Captain. I shall see you later, I am certain." He turned and left the observation room, entering a different hallway than Sherlock had and making his way to the waiting car.

Jack smiled and knocked on the window, getting the Doctor's attention. He flicked a switch and turned lights on in the observation room, making him visible to the Doctor and gave him a thumbs up. Mission accomplished, now it was time to put the politics face away and get back to the actual work of saving the world.


End file.
